Ghosted Then Gagged

MM Office Romance
by Jace Wilder

Free with Kindle Unlimited

Pairing: MM
Heat: 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ Inferno
Tropes: Boss/Employee, Second Chance, Ghosted Hookup, Secret Relationship, Office Romance, Forced Proximity, Praise Kink, Power Exchange, Bi Awakening

A shy coder gets ghosted after the best hookup of his life — then walks into his new job and discovers the man who vanished is now his boss.

Noah Bell hasn’t had a good night since the best one.

Three months ago, a stranger in a downtown bar took him apart so thoroughly he forgot his own name. Then the man disappeared — no text, no explanation, no trace. Noah told himself he’d moved on. He almost believed it.

Until his first day at his dream job, when the VP who runs the entire floor turns out to be the same man who left him wrecked and wanting.

Julian Knox built his empire on control. He doesn’t panic, doesn’t stumble, doesn’t let anyone close enough to see what’s underneath. But the night he spent with Noah cracked something open he’s been trying to seal shut ever since.

Now Noah’s in his building, on his team, under his authority — and Julian can’t stop watching him. Can’t stop remembering. Can’t stop wanting to finish what he started.

They set rules. No feelings. No one finds out. Just late nights behind locked doors where Julian can prove he’s sorry the only way he knows how — on his knees.

But Noah isn’t interested in an apology he can’t trust. And Julian is learning that the only thing harder than disappearing is staying.

Ghosted Then Gagged is a standalone high-heat MM romance featuring a boss who doesn’t deserve a second chance and the man who makes him earn every inch of it. Explicit content. HEA guaranteed.

You’ll love this book if you enjoy:

✅ Boss/employee with a revenge-seduction twist
✅ Second chance romance where the apology comes on his knees
✅ “He ghosted me and now he’s my BOSS” energy
✅ Praise kink that unravels a powerful man
✅ Office sex, server room encounters, and locked-door tension
✅ Dual POV with a hero who earns every inch of forgiveness
✅ 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ — graphic, explicit, emotionally devastating
✅ HEA guaranteed

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⚠️ Content Warning: This novel contains explicit sexual content (graphic MM scenes including oral, penetrative sex, praise/degradation dynamics, and power exchange), strong language, workplace power imbalance, themes of emotional abandonment, and depictions of anxiety. Intended for readers 18+.

📖 Read Chapter One Free

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Chapter One: The Night That Ruined Me

The shirt is too tight.

Or it’s not tight enough. Or it’s the wrong color, the wrong fabric, the wrong everything, and I’m standing in my bathroom at 6:47 AM having a crisis about a button-down when the actual crisis is that I’ve been awake since four and my hands won’t stop shaking.

I stare at myself in the mirror. Contacts in, hair actually styled with something other than my fingers, jaw freshly shaved for the first time in a week. I look like someone who has his life together. Someone who’s excited about his first day at his new job, which I am. Someone who hasn’t spent three months replaying a single night on a loop until the memory wore grooves into his brain like a record that won’t stop skipping.

Which I have.

I unbutton the top button. Button it again. Unbutton it.

“You look fine,” I tell my reflection. “You look professional. You look like a software engineer who is about to start a great job at a great company and not at all like a person who keeps a glass of water on his nightstand for two days because a stranger left it there.”

The reflection doesn’t look convinced.

I grab my bag, check for my laptop, my badge packet, my keys. I stop in the hallway and catch my own eyes in the mirror by the door — the full-length one Wren made me buy because they said I needed to “see the whole picture” instead of just my face when I left the house — and the whole picture is a twenty-seven-year-old man in a navy button-down and dark jeans who looks almost good. Almost confident. Almost like someone who moved on.

The last time I tried this hard to look good, I was standing in my bedroom pulling on a shirt while Wren sat on my bed and threw rejected options at my head.

“You’re going to a bar, not a funeral. Wear the black one. No, the other black one. Jesus, Noah, do you own anything that isn’t the color of sadness?”

Three months ago. Downtown, that bar on Ninth with the low lighting and the exposed brick that every bar has now because we live in a city that thinks drywall is a personality flaw. Wren had dragged me out because I’d been “moping with intent” since Davis and I split, which was Wren’s way of saying I hadn’t left my apartment for anything non-work-related in three weeks.

I didn’t want to go. I went because Wren is impossible to say no to, and because my couch was developing a permanent indentation in the shape of my body, and because some small, stubborn part of me thought maybe I’d feel something if I just put myself in a room with other people and enough ambient noise.

I felt something.

I felt him before I saw him. That sounds like a line from the kind of books Wren edits, the ones with shirtless men on the covers and titles like Wrecked or Undone, but it’s the truth. There was a shift in the air near the bar — a displacement, like the room rearranged itself around a new center of gravity — and when I looked up from my drink, he was there.

Tall. That was the first thing. Taller than me by several inches. Dark hair, cut short on the sides and longer on top, the kind of cut that costs more than my electric bill. A jaw that could’ve been drafted by an architect. Gray eyes — not blue, not green, gray, like slate, like storm light, like something cold that burned when you touched it.

He was wearing a charcoal suit with no tie, collar open, sleeves pushed to his forearms. His watch caught the low light and threw it back. He looked like money and control and the kind of trouble I’d spent my entire adult life avoiding.

He looked at me and I forgot I had a drink in my hand.

“This seat taken?”

His voice was low. Not deep — low, like he’d chosen the register deliberately, like volume was something he kept on a leash.

“No,” I said, which was a word, which was more than I thought I’d manage.

He sat down next to me. Ordered a whiskey, neat, without looking at the menu. When the bartender set it down, the stranger didn’t drink it. He turned the glass once on the bar top, looked at me sideways, and said, “You don’t want to be here.”

It wasn’t a question.

“My friend made me come out.”

“And where’s your friend?”

I looked across the bar. Wren was leaning against a high-top with two women and a man who looked like he modeled activewear, gesturing wildly about something, completely unaware I existed. “Being themselves.”

He almost smiled. The almost was worse than a full smile would have been because it meant the real one was somewhere behind it, waiting, and I wanted to be the reason it came out.

“I’m J,” he said.

“Noah.”

“Noah.” He said it like he was tasting it. Like he wanted to know how it felt in his mouth before he decided what to do with it. “Can I buy you another drink, Noah?”

He could have. He bought me two. We talked for an hour and I don’t remember half of what I said because his attention was the most consuming thing I’d ever experienced.

His hand found the small of my back when someone bumped past us. He didn’t move it after they were gone.

By ten o’clock my blood was ninety percent want and ten percent cheap bourbon, and when he said, “Do you want to get out of here?” I said yes so fast the word almost tripped over itself leaving my mouth.

The chapter continues with the full hookup scene, the morning Noah wakes up alone, and the devastating moment he walks into his new job and discovers his ghost is now his boss. Read the full novel to experience every word.

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Six months later. Julian’s POV. Sunday morning sex in their shared apartment, a deleted phone number, and the final proof that the ghost is gone for good.

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